


Ray's Hands

by helens78



Category: due South
Genre: Community: duesouth_kink, Hand Job, Hand Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-23
Updated: 2010-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hopelessly selfish, but Fraser can't resist; Ray's just that good with his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ray's Hands

**Author's Note:**

> For a [](http://duesouth-kink.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**duesouth_kink**](http://duesouth-kink.dreamwidth.org/) prompt: due South, Fraser/Kowalski - Fraser knows he shouldn't be taking advantage of Ray like this, but Ray gives _phenomenal_ handjobs.

It's the third time this week, and it's only Thursday. There was a time Fraser thought he could resist, thought for certain he could manage to work with Ray and have meals with Ray and spend time with Ray without caving in to his baser needs, but as it turns out, Fraser is pathetically weak-willed in the face of Ray actually _offering_ his hands.

Ray barely even asks in words anymore. These days, he more of leans over toward Fraser--usually in the car, but sometimes when they're alone somewhere: the Consulate, Ray's apartment, on one memorable occasion a movie theater--and puts his hand on Fraser's thigh. That's more than enough to get Fraser hard instantly, and the progression from "hard" to "desperate" takes very little time once Ray starts moving his hand.

Fraser can't seem to get enough of it. He doesn't even know if he needs anything else--would Ray's mouth really be as good as his hands? Could having intercourse with Ray possibly leave him as exhausted and lightheaded as he is after Ray touches him? Ordinarily, Fraser would find the questions ridiculous--the almost unbearable pleasure of being licked and sucked and teased is wonderful, and there is _nothing_ like the feel of being buried inside another man--but Ray's _hands_.

Ray's hands, dear _God_. Ray has such long, graceful fingers; Ray has calluses Fraser's come to know well. Ray's hands are as sexy as sin, which is becoming quite the distraction at work. Fraser watches Ray driving, writing, pointing, touching, gesticulating--one day, perhaps a month after the first time Ray put his hands on him, Fraser even found himself getting hard and breathing unevenly when Ray was biting his fingernails. It was the juxtaposition of Ray's mouth near his hands--it was an absurd reaction, but Fraser quickly excused himself to go to the restroom, splashed cold water on his face, and seriously contemplated relieving his arousal in one of the stalls.

It turned out not to be necessary; Ray followed him in, locked the door behind them, and said, "I want to touch you. Can I touch you?"

Fraser has yet to say no to that.

Tonight they're at Ray's apartment, alone, with no one to interrupt (and Diefenbaker knows if he tries, he'll have no donuts for a week). Tonight they've got hockey on the television and the lights down low, and Ray reaches over into Fraser's lap and rests his hand on Fraser's cock, no foreplay needed.

"Yes," Fraser whispers, "oh, yes, _please_ , Ray--"

Ray looks up at him and grins. "Yeah?"

Fraser tilts his hips up, bites his lower lip against the urge to grab Ray's hand and rub up against it obscenely. "Please, Ray." He's already started begging and Ray hasn't even started yet, but Fraser isn't really surprised; Ray is _that good_ with his hands.

This time, Ray slips to his knees in front of Fraser, and Fraser's almost disappointed--surely Ray's not going to deprive him of his hands, not after all this time spent getting Fraser addicted to those alarmingly good handjobs? But as soon as Fraser's cock is out of his jeans, Fraser realizes Ray isn't planning to deprive him of _anything_ \--he just wants to be here on the floor, here in front of Fraser for once, so he can use _both_ hands.

Fraser's eyes nearly roll back in his head as Ray starts touching him. Both hands, _both_ of them--Ray strokes Fraser up and down, giving him a slow twisting motion, back and forth, easy, gentle. Fraser starts panting almost immediately; he doesn't know how much of this he can take. His head drops back against the couch, and his hands flex--he'd like to stroke the backs of Ray's hands, would love to touch Ray while Ray's touching _him_ , but he also doesn't want to move a muscle for fear that Ray might _stop_.

"Yeah?" Ray whispers. "Is it good?"

How can he not _know_ \--Fraser tilts his head forward again, blinking his eyes open. "Yes, Ray, yes, _yes_ \--"

"C'mon, then. C'mon, Fraser, lemme see you--I wanna see you, _come_ for me, do it, do it--"

And with an invitation like that, how can he do anything else? He groans and clutches at the couch cushions, and then he's coming, and Ray twists his hand so he catches Fraser's come instead of letting it drip onto his jeans.

Fraser reaches out and catches Ray's wrist, and Ray jerks slightly in surprise. "Frase--"

But Fraser's a man on a mission now, and he's not going to let Ray protest his way out of this. He pulls Ray's come-covered hand forward and rubs his cheek against it, smearing his come across his face. Ray shudders all over, eyes wide, staring at Fraser. "Jesus, Fraser..."

That's not all, though; Fraser isn't done with Ray by any means. He's got Ray's hand in his now, all of Ray's beautiful long fingers stretched out and grazing his cheek, and he slides his tongue across his lips and then _licks_ \--from the pad of Ray's index finger to the base of his palm, one long, slow, intense lick, taking up his come and Ray's taste all at once.

By now, Ray's shaking slightly, and he braces his other hand on Fraser's knee. "Fuck," Ray whispers. "Fraser--"

But Fraser can't stop now. He keeps going, keeps licking, even after Ray starts shaking, even after Ray starts gasping for breath. He licks until he's gotten Ray's hand clean, and when there's not a trace of come left on it, he lets Ray go and carefully slips his cock back into his jeans, zipping up and buttoning his fly again.

Ray exhales softly; he climbs back onto the couch and leans his head back, closing his eyes as he catches his breath.

"That was," Ray says, panting softly, "that was good."

"Yes, it was," Fraser murmurs. He looks over at Ray--looks over at Ray's hands--and he wonders where they'll be the next time Ray offers.

 _-end-_


End file.
